A New Fever
by MissPriss11
Summary: The battle to find the Sinsar Dubh has ended. Now MacKayla Lane faces new challenges, with Jericho Barrons at her side.    This is my first attempt at a FanFic and the first time I've had the courage to post anything. Constructive criticism is welcome.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I am not a writer, of that I'm certain. But I am an avid reader and the more I love a story, the harder it is to see it end. This is simply my vision of how this story could continue. **

**The characters this FanFic is based upon are owned by the magnificent Karen Marie Moning. My use is strictly for non-commercial purposes and is in no way intended to affect the value of her series.**

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><p>I looked out the window to the street in front of my lovely little bookstore. That makes me smile a bit. No matter how many months have passed since the deed was drawn up in my name, it still pleases me each time I think about it. My magnificent, magical bookstore. With its rich décor and warm ambiance, it feels more like home to me than I ever could have imagined. It's the only home I have now.<p>

It's raining in Dublin. Again. It's fitting though, given my mood. Sunshine would have been inappropriate for a day like this. Yet once upon a time, I would have considered it blasphemy to even _consider_ that a day could be better without sun. But the world has changed and so have I. I have to evolve with it if I want to survive.

I walk to the rear sitting-area and curl up on the sofa. A fire burns in the ornate fireplace, casting shadows all around me. This too, seems appropriate for my mood. I feel like the world around me is made up of thousands of shadows that flicker in and out—there, without actually being there. Moving and changing at their will, but never escaping the constraints of whatever object cast them. I keep tending the fire in hopes that it will warm me, but the heat doesn't chase away the chill in my bones.

It's been four weeks since Barrons left with Ryodan and the others on some mission or other. I'm not exactly privy to the details of their goings on. I have wizened up considerably and I no longer ask Barrons questions about who they are and what they do. For the most part, anyway. I guess I thought that after they found the spell of unmaking they would no longer seek out artifacts and spells, but I suppose if you're going to live forever, you need something to occupy your time. Maybe when the time is right, he'll tell me what it is they seek. Until then, I'll settle for whatever I get. I know now why he keeps me in the dark and in the convoluted way of our relationship, it comforts and pleases me.

He seemed edgy when he left. Edgy for Barrons, anyway. Like something was bothering him – bothering him enough that he couldn't conceal it from me. I'm not so arrogant to think that I know him well enough to see through his mask. While he may show me more emotion than he used to, it is rarely accidental. He has too much control to let slip anything that he wants to keep private. But I could sense something was off, and it's only served to add to my paranoia over how long he's been gone.

It was obvious he didn't want to leave me by myself. He insisted I stay with my parents until he returned. I thought was a great compliment to them. It impressed me that he'd rather leave me in their care than in the safety of the heavily warded BB&B. I still refused to go, though. I simply explained to him I that I am a big girl and old enough to stay home without a babysitter. Then he calmly informed me that I could go of my own free will or he would bind me and take me there himself. I merely gave him a look and didn't bother pointing out the absurdity of that proposal, particularly when I saw lust in his eyes at the idea of tying me up.

Before I could even take my next breath, I was in his arms and being carried to our bedroom at the lightning fast speed in which he moves. Then his mouth was on mine and I forgot everything but him. We made love at a slow and sensuous pace, drawing it out the way lovers do before impending separation. He moved smoothly and deeply, in and out of me, bringing me closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. I gripped his shoulders so hard my nails left indents in his skin. My body begged him for more, my hips rising to meet him with each thrust. He didn't disappoint. He watched me in that way of his, as if trying to memorize my face in that moment. I cried out his name when I came, the orgasm rushing through my body from head to toe in a black, velvety wave. I carried him over with me and he let out an animalistic growl of release. We spoke no words, but his eyes told me the words he didn't say aloud. I woke the next morning alone, feeling as if a part of me was missing. There was a short note in his familiar, elaborate script on the bed next to me where he normally lay.

_3 days. – JZB_

It's been three weeks now since Ryodan came to tell me Barrons would be "delayed" in his return. He didn't offer further explanation, and I didn't ask. I know what that means. Barrons has been killed doing whatever it was they had gone to do and it will be several more days before he comes back. I know he'll come back, he always does. But it doesn't make it any easier. My heart is in a constant state of aching and my head can't seem to convince my heart to knock it off. There's no way I'll find peace until I see him with my own eyes.

At the same time, a small part of me is dreading his return.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: ****The characters this FanFic is based upon are owned by the magnificent Karen Marie Moning. My use is strictly for non-commercial purposes and is in no way intended to affect the value of her series.**

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><p>It's been three weeks since Ryodan came to tell me Barrons would be "delayed" in his return. He didn't offer further explanation, and I didn't ask. I know what that means. Barrons has been killed doing whatever it was they had gone to do and it will be several more days before he comes back. I know he'll come back, he always does. But it doesn't make it any easier. My heart is in a constant state of aching and my head can't seem to convince my heart to knock it off. There's no way I'll find peace until I see him with my own eyes.<p>

At the same time, a small part of me is dreading his return.

I've kept myself busy by working with my mom on her New Dublin Green-Up projects. I now have a spectacular little garden on the rooftop. It's mostly wild flowers, lily-of-the-valley and blue bells and the like, along with as many green plants as I can keep alive. It's amazing how much vigor I get just from being around life – I can't believe I ever took it for granted. My garden keeps me occupied when I'm not too tired and it serves as a good distraction. For the most part.

What the hell was taking him so long? It hasn't taken him this long before. The waiting is driving me crazy and each day that passes just makes me more anxious about how he'll act when he finally does return. I have no doubt that he will see right through me and know my secret. Maybe he knew before he left. My restless mind had even been enough of a traitor to consider that this might be the reason for his leaving. Maybe he figured it out and decided to leave Ireland altogether, to protect himself from what he'd suffered before.

My dreams have been filled with all kinds of horrible scenarios that wrack my nerves. I lived a life without Jericho Barrons once, and it's not something I can bear a second time.

_But of course he's gone_, said that too-familiar voice inside me. _You have served your purpose to him, now he seeks other things. _I shake my head in an attempt to knock it out. In my angst these past weeks, the glassy lake in my head has unfrozen and began tempting me once more. That this virus keeps residence inside me – has invaded me since I was just a fetus in my mother's womb – is also high on my list of concerns right now. A high enough concern that I seem to have temporarily lost the ability to keep it silent.

_Do not fear me¸ I have only ever desired to make you greater. We will both share what is needed, we will offer sustenance and protection_, it purred. Yea right, I thought. Like I'm going to let that happen.

The voice is quiet and I am once again the only one in my head. Minutes tick by, then hours. I continue to sit in front of the fire, unable to make myself move to the bed that we've shared for so many months now. Unable to make myself climb the stairs to the other room that was mine for so many months before that.

I must doze off because I am suddenly awake and alert. I go into defense-mode, until I feel an electric charge running through my body, causing all my muscles to tense up in arousal. I relax, letting out a half-laugh, half-sob, and close my eyes in a quick prayer of gratitude. When I open them again, he is kneeling before me. I am not startled anymore by his ability to move so swiftly and quietly that he seems to appear out of thin air. I reach my hand out and gently stroke his cheek, just to make sure I'm not dreaming or being tricked. Old habits die hard.

My brow rises sardonically. _3 days, my petunia_, my eyes say to him.

_I didn't say 3 _earth_ days. Try not to be so literal_, his eyes say back, with a hint of that familiar mockery.

But I can sense his unease. I'm just not sure how much he suspects. Or how much he knows for certain. And I'm not ready to have that conversation yet; my heart is too full from seeing him here in front of me. Alive. I need him so badly it aches. I know he feels the same way.

His ancient eyes burn with lust and his hands are in my hair pulling my head to meet his. Then our mouths are together and his tongue slips into mine. He eases me down on the couch and stretches his large body over mine. I can feel the hard length of him against my leg, straining to be freed from his pants. He moves against me and my legs spread automatically to make room for him. He kisses me as if he was starved and I respond with equal hunger. His hands slide up my shirt and cup my breasts. He gently pinches my nipples and I moan into his mouth, my hips arching up in anticipation.

Then my shirt is off and his mouth replaces his hands. I slide my fingers into his rich, thick hair and pull his head even closer. His mouth leaves my breast and moves lower, leaving a trail of hot kisses down my stomach. He unbuttons my pants and slides them off. We've both given up on wearing underwear because too many pairs have been destroyed as casualties of our love making. There is nothing between his mouth and me.

I come with the first stroke of his tongue, crying out in ecstasy. He continues his ministrations, alternating between slowly licking and sliding his tongue deep inside me. I throw my arms over my head and grab hold of the arm of the sofa for dear life, then use it as leverage to push myself against his incredible mouth. He slides two fingers deep inside me while making circles around my center with his tongue. I come again and beg him to fuck me. The words no sooner leave my mouth than he is naked and pushing inside me.

His body is so beautiful. Every muscle is toned and rippling. He moves with the grace of an animal and I am still in awe of him, no matter how many times I've seen him naked. He stretches me and fills me beyond human possibility. He throws both of my legs over one shoulder and throws his head back in a roar of satisfaction as he begins driving in and out of me. I hold on to the armrest with a death grip as I feel yet a third orgasm coming on. He begins to thrust wildly, pushing my knees into my chest. I am amazed at how deep he is inside me. It is my last thought before we explode together.

We make our way to our bedroom. We stop several times along the way. We still haven't spoken a real sentence. He carries me in and lays me on the bed, stretching himself alongside me.

"Did you accomplish what you set out to?" I asked him, carefully phrasing my question so as not to upset him with specifics about his mission. The last time I asked him too many details, it nearly caused him to change into the beast in front of my eyes and he barely managed to keep control. It wasn't hard to figure out why. By his own rules, I would be killed if I learned too much about the curse he and his men suffer. I suspect the only reason I've been spared this long is because I've proven myself useful in their eyes. It probably doesn't hurt that I'm nearly impossible to kill, either.

He gives me a smirk of satisfaction, trailing a finger down my cheek and neck, then over my shoulder and down the curve of my body. "I think you could say that. Several times, in fact," he replied. Typical Barrons, avoiding my question. I roll my eyes. Then I close them, a small pang of grief running through me as I remember what I've suffered the past month, waiting for him to return. He senses this and props himself up on his elbow.

"Care to share what's on your mind?" he asks, as if he doesn't know. I can tell he is slightly pleased that I'm upset it took him so long to return. Not because he enjoys my suffering, but because it means I care he was gone. He's wrong though, that's not the only reason I'm upset.

It takes me some time before I respond. "I thought you might not be coming back…I thought you might have left for good this time." I don't look him in the eye.

I have surprised him; that was not what he expected. He pulls me close, turning my head so I look him in the eye. "I'll always come back for you, as long as you want me to. You know that, Mac," he says gently, with a hint of suspicion. "There's something you're not telling me."

I sense the tension in his body. It is so thick it envelops the entire room. There's no way I can get out of this conversation now, he's too attuned to any slips of the truth I might make to delay telling him.

"Jericho, I—," I can't finish the sentence.

"I recommend you say what it is you have to say, Ms. Lane. The quicker, the better. I find I'm no longer feeling as patient as I was." His use of my last name stings and I flinch. Like that's going to get me talking. I roll over and give him my back which does nothing to persuade him to drop the subject. He is over me in an instant, pinning my shoulders to the bed and holding himself above me so I am forced to look at him. I can feel his arousal against my thigh, but I know it is out of anger rather than lust. It's still distracting.

He stares at me for several moments before something in my face causes him to change his tone.

"Mac…" he says imploringly, his eyes full of concern. It undoes me.

"I'm pregnant," I spit out, then hold my breath.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm learning how hard it is to get where I want to go in a story without it being too abrupt. It requires some slow-moving writing, which can be boring. Hopefully I can make up for it soon. **

**The characters this FanFic is based upon are owned by the magnificent Karen Marie Moning. My use is strictly for non-commercial purposes and is in no way intended to affect the value of her series.**

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><p>"I'm pregnant," I spat out, then held my breath.<p>

He froze. Crap. He actually froze in place. Crap, crap. It was eerie to see and it lasted longer than I thought was necessary. I still didn't breathe.

I'm not sure how I expected him to react. I can envision his outrage at the situation. I can imagine his grief, remembering his son and the millennia of pain and suffering they spent until Barrons was able to unmake him. And I can understand the anguish of sending your child into a state of non-existence when you know that life is continuous—actually that's not something I can even come close to understanding. But I can speculate that it's not a situation you would ever willingly place yourself in a second time.

It was in this moment that I finally allowed myself to consider the unfairness of it all. I'm a young, pretty American woman whose dreams of marrying a nice southern boy and settling down behind a picket fence were quashed the day I got the phone call that my sister had been murdered. I've fought and bled to save this world next to a man that I never expected to fall in love with.

And why wouldn't I want to have his child? It's perfectly natural to want a part of you to join with a part of the one you love to create a new life. And I can't imagine anyone loving someone as much as I love Barrons. Of course it would be happy news to me, even if the world has gone to hell in a hand basket.

Until now, I hadn't fully considered how I would handle his reaction, but I know, deep down, I had hoped he would be happy. Which is probably why my subconscious tried to bury that desire as deep as deep could go. This wouldn't be happy news to him.

I gathered all my strength and shoved him as hard as I could. I barely moved him, but it was enough for me to escape the death grip he had on my shoulders and roll out from under him. I climbed out of the bed and grabbed my robe that was draped over a chair and tied it snugly around me.

Barrons had surprised me with the robe a while back and it's now my favorite article of clothing. Made of fine white silk and colored with a pink and black pattern. The colors blur together and separate in an unconstrained form that reminds me of the tie-dyed t-shirts Alina and I used to make at summer camp. Hers were always perfect and meticulous, tight spirals of color flowing smoothly into darker hues. Mine generally came out a brown mess because of my determination to include every color in the rainbow instead of choosing colors that would blend into one another.

The pink and the black of my robe practically duel each other to be the dominate color. I swear on my spear, some days it seems mostly pink and other days it's mostly black. I know that seems a little ridiculous, or even impossible, but I've examined it closely on multiple occasions and I'm convinced it's true. It suits me perfectly. Besides, I no longer believe in "impossible."

The silk was cool to my skin, which was hot from my anger, and I stomped off toward the bathroom. A cold shower would do me good. I hesitated a millisecond, seriously tempted to turn around to see if he had even noticed me get up or if he remained a statue. My feet managed to keep moving and I didn't look back.

When I got out of the shower, he was gone. Crap. Crap. Crap.

I dressed quickly and made my way to the bookstore. I go through the Silvers, but Barrons showed me the short cut so I no longer travel through so many dimensions, or face off with whatever it is that he has guarding the path. When I neared the final Silver, I braced myself. The Silvers still rejected me and I was spit out unceremoniously into his study.

Barrons smoothly caught me with one arm and steadied me on my feet before I could tumble to the ground. In his other hand, he had his cell phone to his ear and carried on his conversation unfazed. His face was set in hard planes and he paused to stare angrily at the Silver I just exited. Glared at it is probably more accurate.

He looked down at me and his expression softened slightly. He released his arm around me, softly running his hand from my shoulder down my arm. I let out the breath I hadn't known I was holding.

"How the fuck do you think it happened? Do you need me to draw you a bloody picture?" he practically growled into the phone. He turned away from me and strode over to sit behind his desk. He began typing away at the keyboard to his computer. I couldn't help but crane my neck to watch, he was going at a ridiculously fast speed for using only one hand. I took a quick glance at the monitor and saw half a dozen windows open on the dual screens.

Barrons spun in his chair away from the monitors to face the wall behind him. "Do me a favor and make that accusation again when I see you in person. I would love nothing more than to beat the holy hell out of someone," he said calmly. Too calmly. My cheeks instantly flooded with humiliation as he ended the call. I didn't need to ask; I could guess what had been said. I probably should have braced myself for that even more than I brace myself to get tossed around in the Silvers. Someone was bound to bring up paternity.

He let out a huge sigh before spinning back around to face me. The temporary relief I felt when I first entered the study vanished. I was pretty sure anyone in a three-block radius could hear how hard my heart was pounding as I waited for him to say something.

He rubbed his hands over his face, a gesture that was too human for Barrons. "Mac, I…" he paused. I'd never seen him at such a loss for words. I wanted to cut him off and tell him that it was ok, he didn't need to say anything. But I couldn't. I had to hear what he would say.

"I fucked up, Mac. I'm so sorry." He looked at me with ancient eyes so full of anguish; I thought I would burst into tears.

I didn't though, because it was my turn to be surprised. I was prepared for him to be angry about this, even angry at me, but I never in a million years did I expect an apology. I could have offered to share some of the responsibility, but I didn't do that either.

"I'm going to take care of this situation. I swear to you," he vowed. He looked like Barrons again. Perfectly composed, his expression hard and impenetrable. He was the picture of power and confidence.

And his words might as well have been a stake to my heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ****The characters this FanFic is based upon are owned by the magnificent Karen Marie Moning. My use is strictly for non-commercial purposes and is in no way intended to affect the value of her series.**

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><p>"What do you mean, 'take care of this?'" I asked. I had a pretty good idea what he meant, but I'd give him the benefit of the doubt. He couldn't be suggesting what it sounded like he was suggesting.<p>

"This situation is more serious than you realize," he said somberly. "It's not just the dangerous times. This can't happen. If it would help," he added, "I know of some methods that would…relieve you of your memories. It will be like this never happened."

Blind-sided again. Did he think I would just agree to follow along? Did he really think that if I didn't remember, it would be okay?

"Is that how you handle things, Barrons?" I asked, my voice hollow. "You just make decisions for me, then erase my memories so I never have to deal with it? How many times have you done this little favor for me?"

He rose from his chair walked around to stand before me. Leaning back against his desk, he looked me over as if he was waiting for someone else to make an appearance. Like another version of me would pop out and agree to go along with whatever he decreed. All in the name of my "best interests," of course.

Was he kidding me? He wasn't even going to offer a pittance of an explanation. Not even an over-simplified, half-truth. "Mac, be reasonable," he coolly replied.

I was fuming. "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course it would be more reasonable for me to just go along with your plans. No explanation necessary. You'd think I would be more used to this routine by now."

"I understand your reluctance, but you _must_ trust me."

"Trust _this_, Barrons." I jabbed my finger into his chest. It was like poking a rock. I'm pretty sure I jammed my finger – not that I was about to let him know that. He didn't even seem to notice my assault. "I may be young, but I'm not a child," I continued. "Now, if you want to explain to me what this is all about, I'll listen. Otherwise, this conversation is over." I crossed my arms over my chest to emphasize my point.

Arching one dark eyebrow, he gave me a look that said _not only are you testing my patience, but you are, in fact, acting like a child_. If it hadn't been such a serious matter I would have rolled my eyes at him. When he didn't say anything after a moment, I knew he had made his decision. There would be no explanation from him.

I stormed out of his study to the bookstore. I stopped only to grab my leather jacket off the hook by the door. For the second time that day, I walked away from him. And he didn't follow.

I took off down the street toward the Temple Bar District. I wanted so badly to lose myself in _craic_. I wanted to immerse myself in the energy and noise of locals and tourists alike, laughing and enjoying the day. I wanted to surround myself with people, young and old, whose concerns only protracted as far as what was for dinner –not whether they would live to see another meal. I craved it more than I had in a long time. But there was no _craic _to lose myself in anymore. The streets of this once boisterous and lively city were now desolate. Empty. Forsaken.

Some days I would bump into Inspector Jayne or another member of the Garda (or the Guardians, as we survivors now called them). They worked tirelessly to bring order back to the streets of Dublin. Their unyielding faith that humankind would persevere was contagious.

They were the good guys, and I was proud to fight alongside them. We would save our piece of this world. Together.

I was a little disappointed I didn't spot any of them today because I had a theory I was planning on testing. I recently noticed that these men didn't set off my _sidhe_-seer senses. Jayne had said they continued to eat Unseelie (even though most Fae no longer bothered to project glamour and were brazenly visible to humans). But the Guardians didn't seem to have the same reaction to the gruesome meat that I had seen before.

When Mallucé and O'Bannion had been nearby–and Fiona as well–I could sense the darkness in them. It was like an odor of evil and menace. It still gives me chills to think about. Even the club rats at Chester's–the humans that foolishly seek out the little pieces of the wriggling flesh as if it were some sort of ultimate drug (which, in a way I guess it is)–give off a similar vibe. But with Jayne and his men, I sense none of that. It was as though they emitted feelings of hope and courage instead of despair. I planned to do some research at the libraries of the abbey as soon as I had the chance. Could it be possible that eating Unseelie amplified evil only if one consumed it for evil purposes? If a person was good or had good intentions, was the effect different? It was something I definitely needed to look into.

Speaking of Fae, I sensed some serious faery activity up ahead. I decided not to go any further into town. I considered going to my parents' townhouse, but I didn't really know what I would say to them. Jack and Raney are particularly intuitive when it comes to me. They would sense something was off as soon as I walked in the door. I really hate lying to them and I wasn't sure how much I was ready to reveal. It just seemed like a bad idea overall. I would go see them tomorrow instead.

I veered off the main streets toward a more residential area. The eerie quiet served as a reminder of just how alone I was today. Loneliness wasn't a feeling I was particularly practiced in before arriving in Ireland. In Georgia, I didn't sit at a desk in an isolated office cubical. I didn't bury myself under stacks of books in a secluded study carrel at a library. I loved working in a busy bar. And the only time I spent in the library stacks was in the company of an amazingly hot Psych major–a senior who was the teaching assistant for my Intro to Philosophy class. We weren't exactly doing research. Point being, I was constantly in the company of my friends and my family. When I wasn't around anyone, it was because I wanted some me-time. Not because there wasn't anyone to be around.

I walked in a complete circle before heading north again. I didn't need my _sidhe_-seer senses to know that I was being followed. I continued on my wayward path as though lost in thought. I was actually very aware of my companion.

I knew it wasn't Barrons. Sure, he might be following me too, but I would never be able to tell. It wasn't Fae either, so I kept walking. I was curious to see if my stalker would reveal himself or if he simply found satisfaction in watching me. It's a little depressing to admit, but I found it slightly comforting to know I wasn't alone. I really do get tired of being alone all the time.

The harsh reality was that I didn't really have any friends in Dublin. My parents, of course, but as much as I love them, they aren't really what I'm missing. And Barrons…well, things with Barrons are complicated. I think it pretty much goes without saying that he isn't the kind of friend I'm missing either.

I like to think Christian was my friend. Before I fed him Unseelie and he began transforming into something…less than human. No one has heard from him since we sealed the cavern at the abbey. Actually, he wasn't exactly friendly with me the last time we saw each other. Kat and the other _sidhe_-seers were willing to work with me, but our relationship was still laced with distrust.

And as for Dani, it made my heart ache just to think about her. This was such a cruel world for a child to grow up in and Dani had been forced to grow up fast. Too fast. I mourned her childhood along with all the other unnecessary losses I'd seen over the months. I needed to find her, to fix things between us. I needed to watch out for her, to make sure she was safe. I needed to be there for her, to answer the questions that she'll never be able to ask her mother. Most of all, _I_ needed her. Dani was my only friend and I needed her back.

A cold breeze blew and I shrugged deeper in my jacket to avoid the chill. I looked up and stopped dead in my tracks. Half-way down the block, as if conjured by my thoughts, Dani bounced anxiously from foot to foot.

I smiled so big my cheeks hurt.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This chapter and the last were originally one, but I felt it needed to be broken up. I wish I could always update twice in one day, but who am I kidding. I appreciate the feedback and thanks for reading! **

**The characters this FanFic is based upon are owned by the magnificent Karen Marie Moning. My use is strictly for non-commercial purposes and is in no way intended to affect the value of her series.**

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><p>Dani freeze-framed in and out around me. Gradually getting closer, then zooming back.<p>

"How long have you been following me?" I asked as I circled around, trying to keep her in front of me.

She blurred into focus about a dozen yards away. "Saw you tear outta BB&B." She smirked. "Whatcha so pissed 'bout, anyways? Barrons forget to take the garbage out?"

I let that one slide. "I've been looking for you." Her unease was palpable. She wasn't sure if I meant I had been trying to find her or if I had been hunting her. "I know what Rowena did," I offered. "I know she was capable of coercing others." Dani didn't respond. She freeze-framed in closer. I could see the emotion in her eyes that she struggled to conceal. She zipped out again, but not as far this time.

"I never woulda done nothing like that. Not even just 'cause it was your sister." She shook her head in disbelief. I could feel my throat choking up, but I didn't cry. I raised up my hand to keep her from going any further. I didn't think I could handle it.

I had killed the Unseelie monster that murdered my sister. And I had killed the human monster that ordered her dead. Alina's death had been avenged. From here on out, my mission was to make sure she hadn't died in vain.

"She's dead. Rowena is." I watched for a reaction from Dani. I saw what I had hoped for. A sparkle of admiration glinted in her emerald eyes as she nodded her head in acknowledgment. Some of the distrust left her expression.

"Heard. Good feckin' thing, too! Ro was poison. Ain't supposed to be happy when a _sidhe_-seer dies, but I am about her. Rest of 'em can stop being sheep and start fighting like they're born to."

I couldn't have agreed more and said so. "Have you gone back to the abbey?" I asked casually. I hoped she would say yes.

She flashed me a gamine grin and cocked out her hip in that I'm-way-too-cool-to-care manner. "Feck no," she said, and waited expectantly. Daring me to call her on her swearing.

I wouldn't want to disappoint her. "You know, pretty girls don't have ugly mouths," I recited. She rolled her eyes, but it was clear she was pleased at the return to our old routine. "Where are you staying then?"

"I got my own digs, 'member?" She kept her tone nonchalant. "Wanna come see?" It was a peace offering. Inviting me to see where she went when she slept. Where she spent her most defenseless hours. It was a serious token of faith in times like these. I knew we would have to work our way back to the complete trust we once shared. I had no doubt we would get there.

"Sure, kid." I reached out and tousled her hair. I was surprised when she let me. "But let's walk it. I'm not sure I'm up for super-speed." I'd been pretty fortunate so far on the whole nausea-end of things. I wasn't going to push my luck.

"No prob. We're close 'nuff anyways. This a-way, Big Mac," she gestured with her hand, beckoning me to follow. I'd once asked her never to call me that. It felt like it was a betrayal to Alina. I know better now. And whatever Dani's part was in Alina's death, she was a victim too. I wouldn't blame her or turn her away. I would be for her what Alina had been for me. Friend. Confidant. Big sister.

"Right behind you, Little D."

She rolled her eyes and turned to lead the way, but not before I saw how pleased she was at our exchange.

"Hey Mac?" she called back over her shoulder without stopping. "I'm real sorry 'bout what happened to Alina. I'd trade places with her if I could. Bring her back for you."

I was shocked and horrified. "Don't say that."

My words came out more sharply than I intended. There was a lot I would have traded to get Alina back. Some of it I was not proud of. I'd even considered my own life as an option at one point in time. But if I'd learned anything, it was that there are some things we desire that come at too high a price. Even if it seems like it's worth the cost, we can't afford it.

She nodded once, swiftly, as if to say she understood. I think she might have.

Dani led me up a cobbled path to an old house set back from the street. I admired her choice – I would have picked it too. It was three stories high, constructed from cut stones. It reminded me of a castle out of a story book, complete with a turret that extended another story above the roof. You could probably see all of Dublin from the window of the tower. As we approached, I picked up some sort of magic in the walls, a slight humming of power.

"It's way old, like, ancient. Place's definitely spelled. Inside's modern 'nuff for me," she said as she opened the heavy wooden door.

I eyed the ground warily, not looking to get rejected by any unseen wards. I took a breath and crossed the threshold, almost disappointed that I didn't feel any resistance. The girl seriously needed to up her security level if she planned on living by herself.

I took a look around inside. It was open and airy. It looked much bigger inside than it had from the sidewalk. Kind of like my bookstore in a way. It felt like a sanctuary. Maybe she had it more protected than I had given her credit for.

We walked toward the stairs and I noticed places on the walls where the paint was less faded.

"I took down the pictures," Dani explained. "Gave me the jeebies seein' the faces all the time. Knowin' they were probably dead. Kids 'n all." I nodded in understanding and kept following.

Most of the doors along the way were shut, but I stopped short at one that was open. It was a sunny, cheery room, painted yellow with clouds on the ceiling. I didn't need to see the crib by the window to know it was a nursery. My eyes stung at the innocence of it all. I had to consciously keep myself from placing a hand over my belly.

Dani eyed me warily. "You okay?" No. I was not.

I briskly turned away from the room and she led the way up the winding stairs of the tower. She opened the door and flung her arms wide, spinning around in a grand gesture. "Welcome to Casa Mega," she exclaimed.

I was impressed with her set-up. She had a futon opened out with disheveled blankets and pillows strewn about. In the corner were stacks of candy bars, protein shakes and water bottles. The walls were covered with click it lights and I saw piles of batteries and replacement bulbs.

Once inside the room I could see that the door was lined with some kind of weather-stripping all the way around. When it closed, the door was completely sealed. No Shades would slip through any cracks. The window had the same treatment. And I was right; you could see all of Dublin from it. I would have made this my fortress too.

I nodded my approval as I plopped down on a loveseat. "Not bad."

She preened at the compliment. "What'd I tell ya? The Mega can take care of herself."

"I still think you should go back to the abbey, even if you stay here sometimes. There's safety in numbers. Or you could move in the bookstore with me," I offered. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Thanks, but no feckin' thanks. Ain't exactly the third-wheel type. I go to the abbey sometimes. Check in and all. Make sure they're still alive."

That was something, I suppose. "Maybe Barrons can put up some extra wards for you. Don't get any ideas," I scolded when I saw the look in her eye at the mention of Barrons. She may only be fourteen, but she's made her opinion of Barrons a little too clear.

She grinned and turned to window. "I'm glad we're okay, you and me. Kinda missed havin' a partner to hunt Unseelie with."

Dani hates showing any weakness. It's a byproduct of being different from everyone else, of never quite fitting in. She missed more than just a fighting partner. I heard the words she wasn't saying.

"Missed you too, kid," I said softly. I knew she heard me. She has super-hearing.

A glance out the window showed me the sun was getting low. I must have been walking for longer than I realized. Suddenly, the weight of what awaited me at home was too heavy to ignore.

"I better get going," I told her. "Come find me soon and we'll go hunting?"

She shot me a grin over her shoulder. "I'll see if I got time." I smiled back and made my way out of her citadel.

Things were going to be okay between me and Dani. It gave me a surge of positive energy, something to hold on to. A distraction from the dread I felt over the impending face-off with Barrons. At least something in my life was getting back to normal.

Even with everything else on my plate, I was ready to tally this day under the "good" side of the scorecard.

But Fate's a fickle bitch and I'm pretty sure she has it in for me.

The sun was setting faster than I anticipated and I picked up my pace. I rounded the corner, only a block away from the bookstore. Then I wasn't in Dublin anymore.

Gone were the abandoned houses and empty sidewalks. In their place were trees and flowers too lush. Scenery too brilliant. It was no longer dusk, but a bright and sunny afternoon. The air was warm and tickled my skin. It practically caressed me like a lover. It smelled richly of sandalwood and jasmine and something else I would never put my finger on. Like Heaven.

I knew I'd been here before. But not me. I had memories of this place. But they weren't mine. Had I inadvertently stumbled into an IFP like an idiot? This place didn't seem like just a sliver of an alternate realm. This felt like the real deal.

I shook my head in disbelief, only to realize the weight of my head was off. I reached back for my hair with both hands. Instead of finding a short ponytail, I felt the intricate twists and braids of some ornate coiffure. I touched bands of what I assumed was gold, weaving in and out of my tresses, holding it all in place. Finding a loose tendril framing my face, I pulled it out to examine it. The golden curl sprung back into place. It was way too long to be mine.

I looked down and gone were my leather jacket, my sweater and boots. In their place was a draping of gossamer cloth that was not woven from any fibers found on Earth. It pooled around my ankles and had a slit that ran all the way up my thigh. Around my waist was a belt of golden leaves, sparkling in the magnificent light. The neckline plunged low, making a vee all the way to my belly button. Cuffs of gold circled my biceps and wrists. Even my skin appeared to be shimmering gold.

The whole thing oozed sex. And reeked of Fae. My nipples were clearly visible through the sheer material. And embarrassingly hard.

"What the—" My words were cut off.

"_Sidhe_-seer," came a greeting in an otherworldly voice.

"—fuck."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you for continuing to read and a special thanks to those of you who commented! It really means a lot to me that you took the time to leave kind words. This chapter is the longest yet so I hope you like it. For your reference, Cliodna is pronounced KLEE-nah.**

**The characters this FanFic is based upon are owned by the magnificent Karen Marie Moning. My use is strictly for non-commercial purposes and is in no way intended to affect the value of her series.**

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><p>I sprang into defense mode, my hand instinctively reaching for my spear, drawing it. I looked to my hand, surprised to actually see the spear in it. In other encounters I'd had with Fae, both Seelie and Unseelie, my spear had been taken. Not taken—I had been fed the illusion that it was taken. Whoever this was before me must have lacked the power to pull that little trick.<p>

"Do not be foolish, _sidhe_-seer. If I so desired, I would not only relinquish you of possession, but leave you lifeless at my feet."

The disembodied voice echoed the warning all around me. Even though the words were threatening, the tone was melodious and soothing.

"Fear not," the voice continued. "Such trifles would frustrate my purposes for summoning you. Accept my gesture as a token of trust." I reined in my aggressive instincts—as much as I could—and sheathed my spear.

My hostility was replaced by annoyance. This was getting to be ridiculous. I don't like to be in situations that leave me vulnerable. It's borderline claustrophobic. I feel closed in and I get edgy, looking for an escape. And the Fae seem to have no regard for how sifting someone without permission to an unfamiliar place can be discombobulating. Case in point, how many times have I been dragged off to alternate realms now, royally screwing up my day? Actually, they probably know exactly what they're doing. This had better be good.

I took in my surroundings and hissed out a breath. It was unbelievable. The scene before me was too beautiful. It was almost painful to look at. I'd seen the Faery Court in Barron's mind and I'd spent plenty of time at the White Mansion, but I was completely unprepared for this onslaught of visual stimuli.

If I had to describe it, it would be somewhere between Alice's Wonderland and James Hilton's Shangri-La. It was vast and alluring, but the proportions were all wrong. The flowers were too vibrant. The landscape was too lustrous. Everything was too detailed and too intricate to please the eye. It was exquisite. It was tantalizing. It was life. It was eternity.

I was overwhelmed.

"Who are you?" I asked, circling slowly, searching for a body to claim the voice still resonating around me.

"The question, _sidhe_-seer, is _who_ _are you_?"

With that, she appeared before me, the embodiment of divinity. Her oval face featured perfectly formed pink lips and perfectly pronounced cheek bones. Her perfectly arched eyebrows sat above perfectly symmetrical almond-shaped, iridescent eyes. Long locks of perfectly wavy strawberry-blonde hair fell down her petite form and rested well below her waist. Or maybe her hair was golden? No, it was red. It kept changing under the strange sunlight.

No movie star or super model could ever compare. Mankind would forever worship her existence. Make sacrifices in her honor. Fight wars in her name.

I'd had little experience with the female version of Seelie, and zero one-on-one time. I'd failed to consider that the death-by-sex power they hold over humans would not be gender specific. If I hadn't been immune, I'm pretty sure I would have offered myself up to her like I had once done for V'lane/Cruce. It wouldn't have mattered that, given the choice, I prefer men. The kind of pull the Fae have strips you of your will and leaves you with your soul bared

Luckily for me (if you could call it lucky) that part of my soul had been excised when the Unseelie Princes raped me, leaving me _Pri-ya_. After Barrons brought me back, even at full power, I can resist that sexual allure the Fae produce. I'm almost positive I'm the only human with this ability. That didn't stop her from trying.

"Interesting," she said, her head tilting almost imperceptibly. "I have heard tell of your experiences, but I've never seen one such as you. It was foretold that you would come to be, but so often events do not develop as they should."

I was curious about her remark –and mildly insulted by it. I tried to be patient and wait for her to offer more. One thing I've learned about the Seelie is that they tell you only what they wish you to know. Asking additional questions is rarely effective-at least not right off the bat.

Of course, my patience has its limits. She may have all eternity to stand around, staring me up and down, but if I was in Faery, time in the real world would be moving rapidly without me. "Are you one of the lost princesses?" I blurted out. I couldn't help it, I was getting anxious.

She offered me a small smile. It didn't seem natural on her flawless face.

"What do you know of the lost princesses, _sidhe_-seer?"

Trick question. She wanted to know how much I had learned about Fae history. V'lane/Cruce had warned me about revealing all that he had told me. He may have turned out to be a traitor, but that seemed like sound advice and I would heed it for now. "I know they disappeared shortly after the Queen did. No one knows if they're dead or hidden away." That seemed like a fair statement. I'm pretty sure that was common knowledge.

"Indeed," she said. Her facial features remained impassive, but I detected amusement in her eyes. "Shall we – how would you say it? Ah, yes. Let us 'take a stroll,' _sidhe_-seer." All arrogance, she turned and began walking—more like gliding—presuming I would follow her. Not that I had a choice. I followed.

"My name is Mac. MacKayla," I offered.

"Of course," she said without turning around. I hurried to catch up to her, trying not to trip over my skirts. Our path led over lush, rolling fields of grass that felt as springy as a trampoline on my bare feet. I could probably jump higher than natural here too. The sun was warm and comforting, emitting a rich, sparkling glow. Even the blooms on the flowers and the trees seemed to glow. When we reached the top of a hill, she paused.

I stopped too, a few steps behind her. She stood with her back to me and beyond her I could see the expanse of a magnificent valley with rippling creeks and shady trees. Creatures I had never seen before drank from the brooks and sunbathed on rocks near the water. The trees held fruit that looked so appetizing, it reminded me of Eve and her temptation. I would not be Eve.

After several moments, she finally spoke. "I am called Cliodna." Her voice was soft and silvery. Her back remained to me so I moved to stand beside her. She continued to look out into the valley. "Tell me, MacKayla, do you know of the human lore?"

I looked at her curiously. "You'll have to be more specific. There's a lot of 'lore.' "

She turned her head and gave me another small smile, as if indulging a child. "Relatively speaking. I refer to the mythologies of your Greeks and Romans."

I hadn't expected that. I'd read the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ in high school, maybe even again in college, but I had no idea why she would ask me about that now. "Some," I replied honestly.

She turned back to face the valley. A large, multicolored bird with two long, feathered tails soared by. It sang a hauntingly beautiful aria that gave me goose bumps before disappearing over the horizon.

"The Greeks worshipped the gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus, the Romans adopted many of the Greek myths as their own. They told of the gifts given by the gods and the theatrics between them, of the meddling in human lives. Naturally, much of it has been misconstrued. But much is quite accurate. Even prophetic."

I raised an eyebrow. Where was this going?

"Has it occurred to you the similarities between their legends and these times?" No. It hadn't.

"Have you considered what role you might play?" Again I didn't answer. I'm still not clear where I fit in with things Fae, I haven't had the time or forethought to consider the Greeks and Romans.

"What role do _you_ play?" I asked. She turned to face me, this time the amusement was clear in her eyes.

"You are indeed unique, MacKayla. And you are changing, in many ways. I sense the life inside you. I find it…curious." I instinctively moved my hands to cover my stomach. I didn't like her sensing anything about the life inside me. As far as I was concerned, she could keep her Fae nose out of my business.

"You became a matter of Fae concern some time ago," she declared. I scowled. I knew I hadn't spoken aloud; I needed to be more careful about wearing my emotions on my face.

"There is one who protects you, more so than all others," she began and I stiffened. If she was talking about Barrons, did she know about the princess he killed? Was that was this was about? Would she seek revenge through me? Through our baby?

"The efforts are misguided. You are only just beginning to become what you are. We will meet again, MacKayla."

It sounded more like a threat than a promise, but I could never tell with Seelie. Before I could begin firing off all the questions I had, I was back in the book store.

I tried to wrap my head around all that had transpired. It would probably take some serious mulling over to unravel the cryptic message Cliodna had delivered. Apparently it wasn't in a Seelie's nature to be specific.

Once my eyes adjusted to the dim indoor lighting, they nearly bugged out of my head. I must have been gone longer than I thought because my book store had been completely trashed. Magazines and newspapers ripped to shreds. Hundreds of books torn from their bindings. It would take me forever to clean this up!

And how exactly was I supposed to replace all the things that had been ruined? It wasn't as if Random House was still printing new editions, and I hadn't seen a new copy of the Courier Herald or the Irish Times since the walls fell. The only new materials being printed were survival tips and strategies and I'm pretty sure Dani was the main publisher of those rags.

I let out a huge sigh of defeat and the next thing I knew, my back was against the wall. The transition was so gentle, I barely registered moving.

Barrons was before me, his eyes full of a mixture of rage and relief. His hands were at my waist, gripping the opalescent material of my Faery gown I still wore. I could hear the rattling in his chest as he battled for control over his inner beast. There was a flash of crimson in his eyes.

"Who took you? Where?" he snapped. So much for a "Welcome home, Mac..."

"She said her name was Cliodna. I'm pretty sure we were in Faery. How long was I gone?" Instead of answering, he held my arm out, turning it this way and that, looking over it thoroughly. He repeated with my other arm. He then lifted both arms above my head, holding my wrists and locking me in place with one hand while he examined my sides and underarms and…less exposed places.

Without warning, I was turned around with my face flat against the wall, my arms still raised above my head. His long fingers were gentle as he brushed tendrils of my hair away to search my scalp. He tenderly moved across my back. I was surprised to discover my gown was backless has he quickly brushed fingertips down my spine.

"What are you looking for?"

"Making sure you aren't marked. Fucking Fae are wising up about tracking and spelling. Easier than sifting around searching for someone."

A chill ran over me as he continued his assault. My back was once again against the wall and he knelt on the ground before me. He gingerly took my right foot in one of his strong hands while lifting my skirts up with the other. Extending my leg, he searched over it as he had done my arms. I had to rest my hands on his shoulders to keep from losing my balance. He switched hands to examine my left leg.

Apparently satisfied, he set my foot down and dropped the material of my dress so the layers fell back into place around my ankles and feet.

Standing up to his full height, he towered above me, emanating raw power. My hands still rested on his shoulders, which were now above my head.

His hands moved back to my waist as he dropped his forehead to mine. Gone was the anger in his eyes. He let out a long, shuddering breath. When I thought he might say something, he dropped his head forward, into the hollow where my shoulder met my neck.

"4 weeks. You've been gone for a bloody month," he murmured into my neck. No wonder my bookstore was in shambles.

"Really? It didn't even feel like an hour. I got a whole afternoon for a month last time. Exchange rate must not be as good as it used to be," I joked. I don't know why I was joking about it; he clearly wasn't in a laughing mood.

"I had no idea where you were. I couldn't find you." My heart lurched at the strain in his voice.

He took several deep breaths, as if inhaling my scent. I didn't want to ruin the moment by speaking. Or moving. I waited for him to come back to me.

The air around us changed suddenly and his hands tightened on my waste. I could sense emotion boiling inside him, electric beneath his skin.

"I need to be inside you," he growled in my ear. Lust took my knees out from under me. He swooped underneath them and scooped me into his arms. I circled mine around his neck.

He held me high, looking to me, as if giving me one last chance to object. Desire burned clearly in his eyes. I responded with a look of my own, giving him the answer he wanted to hear.

In a flash he was laying me out on our bed. For me, we had just been here this morning. For him, it had been weeks.

I reached out to touch him, but he circled my wrists with his fingers and held them over my head. I started to protest but he covered my lips with his own. A small moan escaped me into his mouth. His free hand was at my thigh, inching the filmy material up and up so that it bunched around my hips. His lips traveled down my jaw and neck.

He pulled back, holding himself above me. "Bloody fairies," he mumbled, taking a hard look at the sheer material covering my breasts. "At least they get some things right." He lifted my skirts up over my head and off, completely exposing me to him. Body and soul.

His eyes roamed my body hungrily. The look he gave me was so arousing that my hips arched up in invitation. He accepted.

I was ready for him when he entered me, but I cried out when he filled me completely with one stroke.

"Fuck," he groaned, holding us both still. My thoughts exactly. It seemed like ages before he began moving. Once he did, our pace became a rough and frantic rhythm.

I raised my knee and pushed my foot on the bed so we rolled over, putting me on top. I like being on top—from here I can watch his face as we make love. I can see the emotion he so often conceals outside this room.

I braced my hands on his muscled chest and began riding him. I slid up and down his body. Teasing him, teasing myself. I felt my release coming so I increased my movements. My back arched and my head fell back. I reached behind me to support myself by placing my hands on his thighs. "Jericho," I moaned his name as I climaxed. Actually, I screamed it.

His hands gripped my hips, taking control and moving me over him, faster and faster. I would bruise, but I didn't care. "God—Mac!" he roared as he came. With his final thrust, his hips arched up off the bed, lifting me up in the air, impaling me on him and drawing another orgasm from me. I watched ecstasy claim his features, his eyes closed, lips parted. He came down and I collapsed on top of him.

His thumbs continued to stroke my sides as we came back to Earth. Gently caressing my back, then moving across my abdomen. I realized it at the same time he did.

Still inside me, he sat up abruptly. We both looked down to my stomach. It didn't make sense.

When I showered this morning, I had been flat as a pancake. I reached down and put my hand over my lower belly. It was firm, almost hard. The unmistakable beginnings of a baby bump.

I looked back up to Barrons, wondering if he knew how this could be. He stared at the place where my hand rested, his face white. When he looked up and his black eyes met mine, I saw something I had never seen in them before.

Fear.


End file.
